


Making It Through

by Diaphenia



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M, K/P never went to the Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diaphenia/pseuds/Diaphenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Shanksperian_everlark, who prompted: <i>Drunk!Peeta. Prefer AU, but canon is definitely okay. Any characters that you wanna work in is fine, too. Please, no death or angst. Fluffy fic is preferred.</i></p>
<p>Katniss and Peeta, after the reaping for the 76th Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SassyEverlarking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyEverlarking/gifts).



> With thanks to a soon-to-be-named friend who helped me brainstorm, and to Jennagill, who betad this.

“Just knock,” Delly hissed, so Peeta did.

The door opened, and Katniss Everdeen appeared on her doorstep. She looked at him, a guarded expression on her face.

Peeta’s stomach lurched, and he didn’t think it was the alcohol this time. He looked behind him, but his friends— his terrible friends— were all hidden in the shadows. He swung back around to Katniss. This time, though, when his stomach lurched, it was the alcohol.

“Hello,” he said, because he had to say something.

Then he turned away and threw up in the bushes.

“I’m going to go,” he said. He could swear he heard a giggle.

Her face was utterly green, but she stepped aside. “You should come inside.”

Peeta took a moment to assess. Yes, this was happening. He let his eyes focus, and carefully made his way indoors.

“My mother’s not here, and neither is my sister. Birth. They’re the healers in the family. But— you’re clearly sick.”

Peeta took a moment to take in the house. He’d seen the outside a handful of times, but he’d never been inside. It was sparse, with yellow cotton curtain, and a stack of dishes next to the sink. He must have interrupted her in the middle of doing them, because she had to drain the dish water in order to fill his glass.

“Here,” she said, thrusting the water at him. She left the room, and returned with a box of sodium bicarbonate.

“You’ll feel better if you...” she waved her hand around. “Clean up.”

“Thank you.” He stepped carefully over to the sink, where he brushed his teeth with his finger, rinsed his mouth out, and drank the rest of the water. He was uncertain what his next step should be, so he sat down at the table, a few feet from her.

“Are you going to do that again?” she asked, looking mildly uncomfortable. He shook his head a little too hard, and felt quesy, but he was determined not to vomit again.

“You look nice,” he blurted out.

She barely glanced down at her dress, a soft green thing that left her calves exposed. “Yeah, well. The reaping.”

“Our last,” he said. “We’re home free.”

“I have my sister. I have to think about her.” Katniss said, glumly.

“Prim, right?”

“How do you know my sister’s name?”

“We’ve only been going to school together since we were five,” he said. “I'm sure you know my brothers’ names.”

Her face froze and Peeta knew she absolutely didn’t.

“Sure,” she said, her eyes darting away.

They were both silent. Katniss studied her fingers, and Peeta had to remind himself not to study her.

Then she did something he didn’t expect. She got up, wet a washcloth, and sat down next to him, brushing away some hair from his face to place the cold cloth on his forehead.

Peeta had to think of some depressing things to stop himself from reacting to her touch. Dead squirrels, maybe. “I’m just saying. No more reapings. It’s worth celebrating,” Peeta said, wishing he could cram the words back in. All that liquor had made the words just fall out of his mouth.

Her eyes lit up. “I get it. You’ve been celebrating by _drinking_.”

“No,” he said. “Maybe.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Must be nice to be able to afford that,” she muttered, glancing around the room.

“It was a bottle shared among a bunch of us.” Peeta felt defensive. Did she think he was— what, rich? inconsequential? dumb? He always knew she’d hate him on principle; as though the accident of their births meant something about them as people. As though a blonde couldn’t admire someone from the Seam.

She shook her head. “I thought you had the flu. I mean, you looked so sick at the reaping.”

“I did?” he said, shocked she’s been paying attention.

“Were you already drunk?” she asked.

“No, just garden-variety nerves,” he said “But it’s over.”

“It’s not really over,” she said. “My sister. Gale’s siblings. And one day, my sister will have kids and Gale will have kids and then I’ll have to worry about them, too.”

Gale. _Gale_. That had to be the guy she was always with, or at least always had been with until the older boy had graduated. Peeta had always assumed they were romantically involved, but she had referred to _Gale’s children_ , rather than _our children_. That had to be a good sign.

“It’s like they own us,” he said with a sigh.

“What does that mean, _own us_?”

“They keep us on a string our whole lives. Everything’s so decided, from the moment we’re born. And we get assigned houses and practically assigned careers and it just seems like a terrible idea. I wish there was a way—” He caught himself. No one talked about these things, even while drunk.

It wasn’t a good idea.

He dropped his voice. No one was listening, probably, but just in case. “I just think of some things Madge used to say.” He contemplated his friend, forever seventeen, and the evenings they’d sometimes spent studying together. She’d had a whole stash of books from the Dark Days, and maps too. “There's more of us than there are Capital citizens—”

“Don’t talk about _her_ ,” Katniss said, slapping her hand over his mouth. She was touching his skin, leaving her hand there, and Capital be damned if he was going to ignore the fire it was igniting in him. “My sister is still eligible for the reaping. And you know what happened the last time someone was spouting theories.”

All too quickly, she moved her hand away, and waited for him, her silver eyes locked on his. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he was, though for what, specifically, he wasn’t sure. “I should get going anyway.” He stood, and the ground swayed under him. He gripped the back of the chair. “Or not.”

“Maybe we should try something else,” she said, frowning thoughtfully at him. For someone who claimed not to be a healer, she certainly was dedicated to fixing him.

“Well, I need something to soak up the alcohol.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Practiced at this?”

Peeta felt that judgement from her again. “No. Everyone knows that. I should eat something, like crackers or bread—”

She tensed. He could sense it, without even looking at her. When he did, he saw her cheeks had turned pink, and she was twisting a washcloth in her hands like she was about to rip it in half. “Bread. I can do that.”

“You don’t have to— it was just an idea,” Peeta said, cursing himself for bringing up such a sore subject. Tonight was the night, when his nerves were finally tempered with liquor. He’d spent thirteen years being afraid to talk to one person, and finally, he had a liquid solution. He wasn’t going to lose this opportunity, letting her dwell on some embarrassing instance from the past. He _had_ to fix this.

He had no idea how to fix this.

“No, I can make bread. It won’t be fancy, like you’re used to, but— consider it a debt settled.” Katniss threw down the cloth and started pulling things out of cupboards. She started measuring out dark tesserae grain, baking powder, oil, salt. Peeta wanted to run, he wanted to stop her, and he wanted to teach her how to make drop biscuits _properly_ , but instead he just watched.

She dropped spoonfuls of dough onto the baking sheet, and practically threw the pan in the oven.

“I’m sorry,” Peeta said, feeling like he was undoing whatever help he had given her all those years ago.

“I’m— grateful,” she said, meeting his eyes briefly.

It was the first time in eighteen years she’d held his eye contact. He had to smile at her.

“I’m going to check on the biscuits,” she said, sprinting away from the table. When she sat back down again ten minutes later, the biscuits were golden, if lopsided.

“Thank you, Katniss,” he said.

“Let me put out the fire,” she said.

‘I could do it; I’m pretty good with ovens.”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “You’re too drunk; you might fall in. Go ahead and start eating; I’ll be back in a moment.”

He waited for her anyway.

“I feel like we should clink our glasses,” Peeta said. “And say _cheers_ to something.”

Katniss tapped his water glass with her own. “To being even.”

“Or— _to friendship_? To... _surviving_? To... literally anything else?”

“To making it through,” she said, in just barely a whisper. They toasted to that.

They munched on the bread slowly and quietly after that, but the silence was comfortable. The bread, and time, settled his stomach. Katniss brewed some mint tea too, and that helped. He was about to thank her when there was a sharp knock at the door.

“Shit,” Katniss said. “That might be— you shouldn’t be here.” She put her hands on his chest, and for a moment, Peeta’s imagination went straight to somewhere dirty. Then she shoved him, back into what had to be the living room, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Hello,” he heard Katniss say.

Who was on the other side of that door? Peacekeepers? Maybe she was dating Gale after all, and he was stopping by. Maybe she was dating someone else entirely. Gale always seemed like a rational guy, but Katniss could be dating anyone in the district, practically, and there were a lot of guys who wouldn’t take kindly to his presence.

Then he heard something worse than any of those possibilities.

“Katniss!” It was Delly. “I was just looking for Peeta. You know him, about _this_ tall, champion wrestler, nicest boy in the world?”

“Umm.”

“I was just looking for him, and— oooh, did you make biscuits?”

“You can have one,” he heard Katniss offer insincerely.

“Oh, thank you, you’re too kind. Mostly I just need Peeta.”

“Your... boyfriend—”

“Oh no, not my boyfriend! More like my brother, honestly. He's here, right? Have you been taking care of him?"

He couldn’t take this. “Sorry,” he said, bursting through the door. “Katniss was just helping me out. Thank you, Dr. Everdeen, for letting me rest on your couch. Sorry I interrupted your dinner.”

Katniss gave him an unreadable look. Delly, meanwhile, still had the glassy eyes of someone who had also had too much to drink, and sent him a wicked grin.

Delly stepped forward. “Oh good, I couldn’t forgive myself if we let him wander off into the meadow alone. You take such good care of people, Katniss.”

Katniss looked shocked. Delly kept going. “I’m so glad to finally get the chance to talk to you. I know you’ve always so busy, with your hunting and all, but I’ve just been dying to get to know you better. You know, at the end of the month, I’m having a graduation party and you simply must come.”

Katniss clearly didn’t want to do that, but Delly didn’t notice. “You come, and don’t even think of bringing anything. I wouldn’t dream of it. Oh, but if you wanted to bring your old friend, Gale Hawthorne, that would be nice. I haven’t seen him in ages. Is he seeing anyone?” Katniss shook her head. “Wonderful. You know, Gale and I go way back,” Delly said with a wink. Peeta was shocked. When had _that_ happened? “I’ll see you in school tomorrow, we can discuss the party details then. I’ve noticed you sit alone at lunch since— well, since. You should eat with us.”

“I think I have to—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you. I’m so glad you’ll be there.” Then she pulled Katniss into a wide hug.

Peeta had never seen someone look more uncomfortable.

Delly continued. “Oh, but you have to hug Peeta, too.” She watched, patiently.

Katniss stuck out her arms in something resembling an attempt to hug him, and for one glorious moment, he got to hold her in his arms. Her head rested every-so-briefly against his chest, and it felt like she was made to go there.

Then all too soon, Delly pulled him out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta entered the lunchroom slowly the next day. He was worried Katniss would be at his lunch table. He was equally worried she wouldn’t be at his lunch table. There was a lot of conflicting emotions, there. 

Instead, he found a bunch of merchant kids talking about their hangovers. What he didn’t find was Delly. 

“I think she’s working on a project,” Jolie said. “Something about looking for something? I don’t know, my head’s been pounding all day.” She smirked at him. “You look pretty good for someone who consumed as much as you did. Maybe we should always leave you at Everdeen’s.”

Peeta actually did feel pretty good. Not great, and he was tired, but his stomach was settled and he’d been able to eat his breakfast with gusto. Still, he had to deny everything. “She just made me rest on her couch,” he said, sticking to the lie. “Let it go.”

No one pressed the issue, because mostly they wanted to talk about alcohol. 

The second day, he strode into the lunchroom. Katniss would be at her regular table, and so would Delly. He knew they were both in school, as he almost always saw Katniss during their second passing period, walking from english to history, and Delly shared his gym class. He hadn’t had the chance to talk to her, but she’d grinned at him and waved.

The other kids at his lunch table didn’t seem too concerned Delly was missing, for a second day. He knew better than to hang his hopes on Katniss actually sitting with them, but Delly? He and Delly had eaten at the same lunch table since they could write their names. 

Sty muttered something about Delly going to the library.

He tracked Delly down outside of her home ec class. 

“Del, what gives?” he said, knocking his shoulder into hers. 

She giggled. “I’m tracking game.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Not to slaughter.” She dropped her voice, and leaned in, conspiratorially. “School’s not that big. Katniss can’t hide from me forever. I don’t know where she’s going during lunch, but I’ll find her.”

Peeta felt his stomach drop. “Just leave her alone.”

“No, she wants to eat with us.”

Peeta had spent a good portion of his life trying to ignore certain realities, but this might be pushing it, even for him. Pretending his parents liked him at least had a measure of sanity to it. “I think she knows where we sit. It’s hard to miss that many blonde heads in one place. If she wanted to be there, she’d be there.”

Delly started finger-combing her hair, avoiding eye contact. “Look, I’ve admired Katniss Everdeen for a while now—”

Probably not as much as he had, he thought. 

“And I know how she thinks. You know she’s so busy all the time, and barely thinks she has time to have fun. She just needs someone to extend the offer of friendship.”

That sounded ok. 

“By force if necessary.”

“Delly,” Peeta said. He tried switching tactics. “You’re going to get in trouble if you’re wandering around lunch. You know how much closer they monitor us during the Games, and we’re, what, two days from the parade?”

Delly waved a hand around. “Not worried about it. I have thirteen years of goodwill to trade on.”

“Yes, but you realize I might die of embarrassment, right?”

“This isn’t about you, Peet.”

He didn’t believe that at all. This had to be at least 57% about him.

Delly smiled as she backed into her classroom. “This is going to go well. Don’t worry so much!”

The bell rang. Great.

***

The third day, he entered the lunchroom slowly, nervous. Just plain nervous. 

Neither girl was there, and Acher mentioned something about Delly borrowing a mirror as well as a sled.

“What I don’t get is what she needed all those knitting needles for,” Jolie said, picking at her carrot sticks. 

“I think it’s weird she’s dressing all in black all of the sudden,” Lissie said. “It’s depressing as hell. It’s not like her brother was reaped.” They all laughed at that, because what else was there to do?

***

Peeta walked in to lunch on Monday and found Katniss sitting at the table.

He almost dropped his books. 

“Hi Peeta!” Delly said. “Sty, shove over so Peeta can sit next to Katniss.”

Peeta slid onto the bench next to Katniss, across the table from a beaming Delly. 

It was a tighter squeeze than normal, having a new person there, and Peeta found his thigh was pushed up against hers. His breath hitched in his throat, and he forced himself to think of something else, anything else, rather than the soft skin and lean muscles under her jeans. 

Fourteen pairs of blue eyes look at him questioningly.

Well, that might be an exaggeration. But fourteen normally- boisterous teenagers were quiet, scoping out the new addition to the table. Only Delly talked, keeping up a steady stream of questions directed at Katniss, who ignored them in favor of not eating her sandwich instead. 

And he got a ton of questions too, only they were on the faces of his friends. He ignored them to focus on his soup, breaking off chunks of his kaiser roll to dip into the broth. 

He risked a glance over at Katniss, only to find that she was looking at him, too. 

When the bell rang it caught Peeta by surprise. 

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Katniss?” Delly asked, and Peeta saw more than one person deliberately slow down to catch her answer. 

Katniss deliberated for ages, but finally, she nodded her head once, then twice. She then fled the room, her books pressed to her chest as though someone would try to steal them away, 

He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

***

“I think it’s romantic,” Jealla said. “I didn’t even know they were dating.”

“I don’t think they were; I think it’s a con job,” Awl said. “And the Capitol is going to eat that up.”

Jolie sighed. “I’m almost looking forward to the interviews tonight. I think we’ll get the full story.”

Last night’s Tribute Parade had been interesting, to say the least. Peeta had watched with his parents, as he always did, dreading the whole thing, as he always did, though he found he had a better stomach for it now that he was in no danger himself. 

“They won’t give us the full story,” Peeta said softly. “No, they have to drag this out so we want them to live. They’ll get sponsors who want them to live.”

Delly looked aghast. “Peeta, that’s morbid.”

“No, that’s practical,” Katniss said, and Peeta was shocked; it was the first time she’d spoken since she’d started eating at their table. 

“Thank you, Katniss,” he said, smiling .

“Don’t misunderstand me,” she said, looking him square in the eye. It had been a strange thing, getting used too her making actual eye contact. “It’s one thing to kiss at the Parade. I agree they’ll get sponsors from those lovesick fools watching. But they’re just delaying the inevitable. When they have to kill each other.”

“They won’t,” he said automatically. To think otherwise was too depressing.

“Maybe,” she said, dubiously. 

“And they might really be in love.”

“And if they are, that’s not going to help them in the long run.”

They glared at each other, and it wasn’t until Lissie gave a delicate cough that Peeta looked away. 

“Anyway,” Jealla said. “I think we should go back to the costumes.”

“Those two we’ve had the past few years are great,” Acher said. “Our tributes really looked like a couple.”

“A fake couple,” Katniss muttered. 

***

Peeta hated watching the interviews, and had gotten in the habit of watching them in the town square. It was still unpleasant, but watching with his friends made it easier than listening to the snide comments from his mother or feeling his father’s eyes on him, as though Peeta himself was on his way to the Capitol. 

He found his way over to Delly just as Caesar, bedecked in a dazzling gold color, began his opening remarks. 

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered.

“Nah,” Delly said. “Just commentary on last night.”

Peeta watched as doomed teenager after doomed teenager spoke with the host, but as usual, he didn’t really pay attention till the kids from his district went up. The first was, as always, the girl. 

Shirl was an underfed Seam girl, dusky-skinned with dark hair and prominent collar bones. He’d seen her around, but she was younger and from the other side of town, and thus Peeta had never spoken to. 

And probably never would, he realized, wincing. 

“I’m doing this for love,” she said, a dreamy look on her face. She smoothed down her poofy white dress, an uncomfortable-looking garment that reminded Peeta of a cake covered in meringue. 

“She looks like a bride,” Delly murmured to Peeta. He squinted, and realized that’s what she looked like. Not a bride from their district, of course, but one of those celebrity brides in the Capitol, only maybe less froofy and certainly more like a regular person than those Capital weirdos. 

The Capital weirdo asked Shirl, “And what will you do if you and your lover are the last two in the Games?”

Shirl’s eyes, covered in some bright purple stuff, opened wide, and she pressed a hand to her chest delicately. “Never.”

“But what if?” Flickerman asked, a pained look on his face.

“She’ll kill him,” Katniss said, her voice quiet. 

“Where’d you come from?” Peeta asked, surprised to see her, and surprised his own hand had imitated Shirl’s.  
Katniss shrugged. 

“Oh nonsense, didn’t you hear her?” Delly said, shoving Peeta towards Katniss. He refrained from knocking the poor girl over. 

“She said she’d sacrifice herself,” Delly continued, clearly touched. 

“People don’t do that,” Katniss said, taking a cautious step away from them both. 

“Of course they do, for love. Parents. Didn’t your mother or your— er, before he was—.”

“No.” Katniss’s voice had a sense of finality to it, that did not offer an opportunity to continue the discussion.

Delly blushed. “Well, my parents have always—”

“Your sister,” Peeta broke in. 

“My sister has never had to sacrifice for me,” Katniss hissed. 

“No, wouldn’t you, for her? Haven’t you, for her?” he asked. He bit his lip, afraid he’d said too much, when she gave the slightest, almost imperceptible nod. 

There was thundering applause on screen, as the Capital audience went wild for their District Twelve girl. Peeta tried to remember if that’d ever happened before, and couldn’t recall a time. 

“He’s a groom,” Delly said, her smile wide when she saw Jor, the gangly Seam kid, in a tux and tie. “They match!” 

Flickerman started right in. “Your beloved certainly had some nice things to say about you. What did you want to say about her?” 

Jor grinned, an easy smile on his face, as though he could hardly remember he was about to be thrown into the Hunger Games. He launched into a recitation of Shirl’s virtues.

“Now, Jor, while I think I speak for the entire audience here and at home when I say we’re all moved by what you two have said about each other—” and Flickerman looked to the crowd, who gave the obligatory cry— “what will you do if only the two of you remain in the game?”

Peeta saw a gleam in his eye, and then Jor leaned in carefully, addressing the crowd. “Well, I suppose everyone’s going to have to make sure we’re the last two in there, won’t they?”

“That they will,” Flickerman said, his words almost drowned out by the crowd. “That they will.” He started in on his parting words, while District Twelve started buzzing with— hope?

“Told you,” Katniss muttered to Peeta. “Faking it.” And then she slipped silently into the crowd.


End file.
